Selfish Fate
by hazelle
Summary: One-shot, Chlark. Clark visits Chloe's grave and comes to an important decision. It's time to move on, but where to...? (Not your usual deathfic, there's a (hopefully) surprising twist)


**Just wrote this quickly this morning when I first woke up and was all sleepy. I'm still sleepy, by the way, but that's not the point. ;) The song is 'Blind' by Lifehouse, which is the best band in the entire world and you should go buy their album as soon as you've read and reviewed this. :)**

**Selfish Fate**

_I was young but I wasn't naïve_

_I watch helpless_

_As you turn around to leave_

_And still I have the pain I have to carry_

_A past so deep_

_That even you could not bury if you tried_

The tips of the freshly cut grass were frosted, and as the early morning winter sun stretched out from its bed of trees, the frost slowly melted into sparkling droplets, each individual tear trapping a rainbow within its watery walls.

Such a simple but beautiful thing would not normally have delayed anyone on their path, even me, but today I stopped to watch the sunrise for as long as I could. Each time I procrastinated by bending to check my laces were tied, or pausing to breathe in the fresh air, a sharp stab of guilt cut through my heart.

I _hated_ this place. _Abhorred_ coming here, because if I had it my way, I would forget the name Chloe Sullivan had ever existed and get on with the rest of my life. But still something draws me here, regular as clockwork, every Sunday of every week of every year. Am I a glutton for punishment, or is it something more? Cowardice, perhaps.

Once the frost had completely ran into the soil and the sun was well on its way to risen, I took a deep breath as I always did, and stepped through the wrought iron gates. The cemetery was empty, as it nearly always was. Though once upon a time I had spotted a woman dressed in black from head to toe, obviously mourning a recently lost loved one, I made a point to stay away. I never saw her again, so perhaps she'd accepted the fact that her loved one was gone and not coming back much sooner than I had. I still hadn't accepted it, matter of fact, because to do that would mean admitting I'd made too terrible a mistake to even contemplate. It's my fault Chloe's not here.

_After all this time_

_I never thought we'd be here_

_Never thought we'd be here_

_When my love for you was blind _

_But I couldn't make you see it _

Couldn't make you see it

That I loved you more than you will ever know

A part of me died when I let you go

Without knowing it, my feet had carried me swiftly down the twists and turns of the path, to her gravestone. I'd visited it so many times before that sometimes I think I could find this place in my sleep. The flowers marking her grave were still fresh, the #week longs# sporadic bursts of sun and rain keeping the vibrant petals red, the glistening stalks green. They were traditional roses, simply because Chloe had never expressed her preference in flower terms to me. Another thing to feel guilty over. I was her best friend for fourteen years and her lover for half that amount, yet I never knew a little detail about her such as her favourite flowers.

I sighed and cleared away the roses anyway, knowing Chloe had never been one for tradition, replacing them with a fresh bunch of handpicked yellow water lilies. Back in the days when Chloe was the hard-bitten snarky reporter, she would have scoffed at the use of primary colours and asked me where my taste in flowers had run off to. And I would have good-naturedly replied that I'm a guy, and I don't _need_ a taste in flowers because she'd love whatever I bought her anyway.

I ran my fingers tenderly along the headstone, a harsh slap in the face to bring me back to reality. The reddish stone read 'Gone but not forgotten' under her name in block capitols. How could four words even attempt to sum up the wonderful enigma that was Chloe Sullivan? I'd asked myself this on more than one occasion but hadn't been able to find the answer.

_I would fall asleep _

Only in hopes of dreaming

That everything would be like it was before

But nights like this it seems are slowly fleeting

They disappear as reality is crashing to the floor

Chloe herself had arranged a spot for her grave before she'd died, but I had been given the task of thinking up the inscription for the stone. Due to the expense, I'd been told that I was limited to six words or less. I'd spent weeks trying to think of six words to immortalise the love of my life in writing. In the end I couldn't do it; I gave the task to Pete.

I'd been selfish again. Not only did I cause Chloe's death, I couldn't even carry out one little task she'd asked of me.

The guilt in that instant was overwhelming. I knew I was crying again, could feel the loathsome tears running down my face to drip onto the wet grass, but I made no effort to wipe them away. I owed Chloe that much.

What would she say if she could see me now? I knew that she couldn't, but what would she say? What would she do? Another two questions to add to the figurative list that would never have an answer. The only way I could get my answers would be if I actually went to visit her at Belle Reve, but I could never do that. I knew for a fact that if she was in her right mind and was actually able to recognise me, she'd hate me for seeing her in such a state.

She'd seen it coming. I think I had too, in my own way. After the one incident at the Torch years before we'd become lovers, she didn't once mention her Mother, or the disease she was likely to pass onto her only daughter again. For a while it seemed she'd forgotten the inevitable, but then the inevitable caught up with her like the inevitable always did. It started out slowly, the paranoia and insomnia slowly taking over until one day she couldn't stand it anymore and something in her snapped. I knew the day had come to fulfil the request she'd sobbed out to me all those years ago.

She'd come to me, not nearly an hour after her confession about her Mother's location. I remember I'd been sitting on the old worn couch in the barn, writing an article for the Torch on the policy for exchange students when she'd clattered up the stairs and into my arms. There she told me this was going to be the single most important promise of my life, and I had to swear on that life never to break it. She'd asked me, that when the mental illness eventually took over; to kill her. She hadn't wanted to suffer through the humiliation and complete helplessness that mental illness brought. She'd rather die than that.

And I'd agreed.

And then I'd selfishly broken that promise, breaking our bond of trust.

Chloe, locked up all those thousands of miles away in Belle Reve, would never forgive me, and neither would I.

_After all this time _

I never thought we'd be here

Never thought we'd be here

When my love for you was blind

But I couldn't make you see it

Couldn't make you see it

That I loved you more than you will ever know

A part of me died when I let you go

Over the years of our life together, I'd locked the dread of what could happen to my beautiful wife safely away, after all, there was no guarantee that she would follow in her Mother's footsteps. We came to an unspoken agreement not to speak of our pact again, until one day, when the stubborn signs of madness were starting to show, and she'd said it was time.

Even then I'd waited a couple of months, her pleas falling on deaf ears, until she was completely incoherent and there was no chance of recovery. The illness had taken her so far that she couldn't even pull the trigger herself, or I'm sure she would have done earlier.

I'd gazed into her eyes firmly and told her what I was about to do. She seemed to understand, something I was desperately thankful for. She'd showed no fear as I raised the gun to her temple, just squeezed her eyes tight shut in anticipation of the shot, to go to a better place, a release from her prison in her own mind.

The shot never came.

Soon after, Chloe was carted off to Belle Reve, leaving me the mess of faking her death, as I knew she wouldn't want anyone else to know. I was left to mourn her passing with only that last look in her eyes as the gun crashed to the floor from my open hand.

She was dead, in all senses of the word but the literal one. If I hadn't been such a coward, if I hadn't hesitated to actually commit murder even if it was welcomed, if I hadn't convinced myself that she was better off locked up than dead, then she'd be up above the clouds now, perhaps watching me mourn beside her grave. Or perhaps I too would be at her side, watching the weeds climb over both our graves. Perhaps either way is better than this.

_After all this _

Why would you ever want to leave

Maybe you could not believe it

That my love for you was blind

But I couldn't make you see it

Couldn't make you see it

That I loved you more than you will ever know

A part of me died when I let you go

I stood up, giving her gravestone one last lingering look, then turned and vowed never to return here again.

Back at my old home, in the barn, I slid two boxes out from under that same old worn couch on which we'd had so many wondrous conversations and sweet kisses. Dust billowed up in my face and I struggled not to cough. Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the barn's closed window, spreading sharp shafts of light onto my treasure. I leaned down slowly; reverently undid the clasps.

One box contained the very same gun I'd been too selfish to use on Chloe. The other, kryptonite.

_I loved you more than you will ever know _

A part of me died when I let you go

**Fin**

**What do you think? I hope you didn't see the whole 'Chloe's still alive twist' coming a mile off. Please review if you liked!**

**Edit: Grr, the formatting got messed up somehow, don't ask me why.**


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